Dragon's Breath
by The Almighty Maluch
Summary: Haunted by a mysterious, foreboding entity in his dreams, Issei Hyoudou, eager for a normal life, re-enters society as a high school student, shortly after spending considerable time under psychiatric care. Thrust into a strange, new world, one wrought by powerful beings and supernatural perils, Issei's choices are finite; it's eat or be eaten.
1. Chapter 1

**Dragon's Breath**

_I watched, dreading the hypnotic sway, back-and-forth, of her brilliant crimson hair, and suddenly recalled, petrified, the passage from Revelations 12:9: __**And the great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.**_

**Chapter One: A Place Called Home**

On those distinct, cloudy August days, I'd grow weary of the hourly checkups and recurring psychiatric assessments, prompting me to flee during the late afternoons for the confines of the wards rooftop, what I considered a momentary sanctuary in the repetitiveness of my ostensible day-to-day activities. Up there, I sat atop a marginally slanted ridge with a pile of literature at my side, a Pocket Bible, cookbook, newspaper, or whatever else I could comfortably get my hands on, and read, resting comfortably on the solar panels underneath until the upcoming morning.

Though not my oddest characteristic by any stretch, my natural eyesight was abnormally exceptional, and I had no gripes with reading the small printed texts of _Matthew 6:28,_ in the pitch-black of the chilly night:

_And why take ye thought for raiment?_

_Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;_

_they toil not, neither do they spin:_

If I were more analytical in thinking, perhaps I might've been able to calculate the approximate time of morning's gallant return; but I still used the lifetime habit of judging nightfall by the alarm clock resting on the indoor dresser of my second floor confines.

Doctor Sakura would often joke and say I sometimes ponder on things less befitting a young man, and more of an old croak, focusing too much on the minor specifications of life. It disappointments me less that she's right, and more that I just can't really do jack about it; because He won't let me.

"Damn, where do you think he ran off to now?" I picked up the echo of tired, frustrated voices below, and momentarily paused my reading session to see what was happening. Two guards—yellow jackets, Sakura calls them—more than a few stories down, bickered and bitched, their target of discussion being yours truly. "Probably took off, likely stole em' crappy books, an', if we're lucky, just may be a comin' back as we speak."

"He's a real freak, that boy." The other yellow jacket loudly coughed and then spat something he'd been chewing into the nearby bushes.

"At least he's of them 'discreet types', am-I-right?" They continued on their routinely pathway as I continued to separately watch from the rooftop above. "At least the hospital'll be getting' rid o' him soon, huh?"

"Damn straight, brother."

As I understood it, guess they were just "used to my antics". I crouched down, perched like some sort of hawk, and felt a frown rearrange itself across my lips. Off in the distance, the courtyard sprawled out in several directions, over a couple of yards, walled off by the depressing sight of tall, chained-wired fencing, yet another reminder that I was, indeed, a prisoner here. My fault, I suppose.

_**Doctor…**_

The voice again snarled, irately, the deep rumble in his tone reminding me of a bottomless pit, a violent storm or hurricane, the voice of a being which festered in the void, reminding me, once again, that He was angry like always.

The brightness of a flashlight covered my back, revealing me to the world. I turned around, not surprised that she had found me. The doctor jumped, startled. I stared back, wincing from the brightness of the light, speculating how long she'd continue to do the same. Slowly, I came to appreciate just how creepy I'd been for the past few minutes.

She sighed and switched off the light that'd been assaulting my eyes. Understanding that my scare was unintentional, she showed off a flashy smile, highlighted by the gentle ruby of her soft lips, and then started taking off her expensive-looking high heels. With meticulous pacing, she gradually made her way across the slanted solar panels to where I presently sat. As she drew nearer, I extended out a hand to take hers into mine, assisting in sitting her comfortably besides me. Her hands were very soft, the kind you'd typically associate with a mother.

Despite the profession, she was a good-looking woman, frighteningly so. She had long, hazel hair, the kind you'd see on the cover of fashion magazines, and perfectly tanned skin that I was sure had to have been kissed by the French Riviera, a gorgeous beach line I'd read about in a World Atlas.

Under the traditional white lab coat, she was wearing a sensual, pink mohair cowl-neck sweater, which did little to hide her impressive, natural properties, which barely reached the top of what I imagined to be caramel thighs, and her tight jean shorts that did little to dissuade said imagination. She was tall and lean, with a curvilinear, busty figure.

Doctor Sakura's first words to me are simple. In a whisper notched somewhere between nervousness and excitement, she leans over to glance at where the guards still continue their nightly patrol, then looks back to me and says "Nice spot." When I crack a light smile instead of reflexively saying, "took you long enough to find it," she gives me an affirming nod.

With time I've learned to get good at hiding the emotions that don't matter; annoyance, anger, and exhaustion, the crap that can have permanent condos setup on people's expressions if they're repetitively indicative towards others, with timeshares set up for their less-than-desirable friends. And when you have another voice in your head, you'd better get good at keeping it under wraps…

"So," she glanced at the stack of books I had kept nearby, "what're you reading this fine evening, Issei?"

I passed her the Bible I'd been skimming over from earlier. With visible interest, she flipped through the small pages, and I noticed her painted nails: dark green.

"Where'd you get this?"

"One of the guards had it."

She raised an eyebrow and passed the Holy Book back to me. "Did you steal it?"

I knew what was coming, and we sat there in silence for a while before I admitted a prejudice. "I feel like that's a mean way of putting it."

"Oh, really?" Her eyes were those of an investigator, one preemptively cross-examining a troublesome witness. "Issei," her expression screamed of bitter disappoint, "you're killing me." The doctor blinked, and I settled on the whistle of a passing breeze as I tried my best to find a sufficient reply to her vocal dissatisfaction.

"Sorry." The ensuing quiet that followed was awkward, albeit frank, and I struggled, internally, finding some semblance of grounds to stand. She often told me I was far from a bad kid, but I wasn't confident in that specific diagnosis.

"I know." She saved me from the growing embarrassment, promptly asking, "how about we make a bet?"

"I'm afraid to even ask."

"Oh, don't be like that." Sakura flashed me another one of her showy smirks, as if it were okay for her to purposefully treat me like I was only eight years old. "You beat me, even once, and I'll let you stay up here for the rest of the night."

I contemplated making a jump for the alignment of bushes down below, but knew well enough that my chances of a successful escape were slim to none, and I loudly exhaled, signaling ultimate defeat. Well played, doc.

* * *

Her office was small and cozy, and I gathered it was arranged similarly to her own living arrangements; the kind of room that let you know, firsthand, that the occupant wasn't going to be too belligerent during your mid-day consultation, thankfully.

"It's a good thing I like you." The good doctor brought her queen out. It was the second game, and my plans for an all-nighter on the rooftops had gone the way of my three paws, two rooks, and a knight. I went with the other knight and felt a shadow of impending doom as her bishop slithered along diagonally. The stem of her pen swung around and pointed at me like the barrel of a gun, the second of the evening. "Still nervous about tomorrow?" The pen returned to her front pocket.

I leaned back in the cushioned chair and placed an elbow on my knee. The good doctor wasn't quite ready to let me off the hook just yet and skimmed the other bishop across the board for a completely different attack on my king.

"You can always tell, huh?" Generally, it was moments such as this when I questioned why He kept silent. I could've really used the help, but He seemed to only cooperative with me when He deemed it appropriate to do so. Dickhead.

It was quiet in the room as the psychologist continued to study me. Doctor Sakura's mahogany eyes flickered in the half-light of the lamp behind us. She shook her head. "Well, I wasn't your psychologist for now over a year for zilch, Issei."

"Right." I tried focusing more on the game board, rather than dwell too much on my bad habit of addressing her chest as if it had an identity of its own. It was painfully obvious I never had much interaction with women growing up.

"Case-and-point, you're finally graduating from being a patient in this gloomy place, to being an actual free teenager." I made a face, unknowingly. "And then, I'll be happy to finally see my favorite kiddo becoming a prominent, healthy member of society." Her gaze dropped back to the board. "Checkmate."

I looked at the assembly of courtly pieces and placed a finger on my king, casually toppling him over to premature death. "You win."

"I'm proud to say I've done my research on finding the perfect foster family, and the Hyoudous are a wonderful couple, Issei. You're going to love them. Trust me."

Two days prior of this conversation, Doctor Sakura informed me that a young family from the Kuoh Prefecture, despite my schizophrenia, was willing to accept me as a "nonconsanguineal" adult into an offspring role of their household; basically meaning that I was finally getting adopted.

Guess what they say is true… _no act of kindness goes unpunished_.

* * *

Early Monday morning was the big day.

Their names were Goro and Sachiko Hyoudou—at glance, a seemingly pleasant couple—and they both appeared genuinely overwhelmed with happiness to be finally meeting me, in-person, that soon-to-be autumn day. Mrs. Hyoudou ran up to me for a tight embrace, her charcoal coat billowing after her. Mr. Hyoudou was quieter than his significant other, but joyful all the same. As they talked, I waited, but the other guy said nothing. Slowly, I felt reassured that everything was going to be all good.

Doctor Sakura's goodbyes to me were short and bittersweet, and I was soon off. From the backseat of my foster parents' Hyundai, I watched the morning clouds roll by, realizing that this was the brand-new start to chapter in my life.

It took a few hours to get the three of us to Kuoh. I read _Frankenstein_, the only novel I was allowed to keep, as we drove across the Kyoto Prefecture, even though I had an inkling that Mr. and Mrs. Hyoudou were saddened of my lack of oratory since the hospital, and I decided that the majority of Japan consists of flashy tall buildings and far too many bicyclists. I was still reading as we pulled up to our destination. "_Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed no consultation._"

Mr. Hyoudou carefully parked the big family SUV in front of nicely sized two-story terrace residence with a light blue exterior, a balcony on the second floor, and tiled roof, and cut off the engine. "We've arrived! Welcome to your new home, Issei."

"But I just finished the first section…" He gave his wife a funny look, and the two burst out laughing. We figured not to make things awkward, and it was collectively appreciated. I unclipped my seat belt, tossed Mary Shelley's hit piece back into my duffle bag, and glanced outside at the surrounding neighborhood. "This looks like a nice town."

Mrs. Hyoudou stepped out of the Hyundai onto the outside pathway, stretching her back and flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. Her petite build threw me off, as I'd never met a smaller woman in my entire life. "Oh, isn't it just the sweetest little town? I've lived here most my life, and Goro moved in about seven years ago."

Mr. Hyoudou's expression brightened even more as he fixed his glasses. "I was a bit of a freelance writer back in the day," he grinned at me with the full set of a severe underbite, "before meeting Sachiko, that is."

I strapped the duffle bag over my shoulder and closed the door to the four-wheeler. "What did you write about?"

"Good question." He moved from the driver's side of the automobile to join his wife's side. "I found myself engrossed with topics relating to the immigration and education systems of overseas countries, mainly the United States. I wrote a fair amount of op-ed pieces, comparing foreign issues with the country's very own." He broke out into a hearty chuckle, reaching out and holding his wife by the waist. "My stuff was fairly controversial, and I received a bit of crap from the older generations."

"Oh, you're being over dramatic." She reached and pinched his cheek, unintentionally causing him to laugh even more.

He glanced back at me and suddenly asked. "How about you, Issei? Did you ever get in trouble, every once in a blue moon?"

"Goro!" Mrs. Hyoudou playfully spanked her husband upside his head. "What are you doing, asking him such a question?!"

My expression didn't change as I tightened the blue strap. "I never got in trouble."

He watched me with great interest as Mrs. Hyoudou left to open the house. "Thinking you're not in trouble and not being in trouble are two different things, Issei."

I appeared to remain immobile, but his words deeply resonated. "Fair point." I watched my foster parents enter the house and noticed the people who were walking by stared at me. I waved, but they didn't wave back; so much for the Sweetest Little Town.

Mrs. Hyoudou called me inside. I'd never seen the inside of a genuine house before, and I wasn't comfortable being out of my element. The entry hallway led into a spacious living room, which shared space with an open tiled kitchen at the side. I also noticed the doorway next to the staircase, leading up to the second floor, was a washroom. A large flat screen television hung from the wall adjacent from a commodious velvet sofa.

My uneasiness must have been showing, and she tapped my shoulder, instructing me to come follow her up the elevating steps. "Upstairs is your bedroom, unless you'd like to later switch somewhere else. It's right besides the upstairs bathroom."

"You have two bathrooms?"

"Crazy, right?" She winked with the purest intentions. I nodded and trailed her into the space that would be my new room. Unlike the chamber that I lived in for a good year, this was a room. The walls were painted a sprightly sky-blue that reminded me of early Easter morning, and I continued to make my way through the comforting space. I had a wooden desk and two spruce bookcases; the floor was covered by grey carpet; and I had a closet and queen-sized bed with blue and white sheets. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah." I sat my duffle bag right by the chair accompanying my desk. "This is an awesome room, thanks."

"I'm so glad you like it!" She smiled and clapped her hands together. "Take as much time as you need to adjust, and get comfortable. I know we're asking you for a lot, so thanks for being a good sport about it. Lunch will be ready, downstairs, shortly."

While she spoke, I looked through my closet and noticed, amongst the abundant wardrobe, a peculiar uniform hanging from the nearest clothes hanger. The blazer was a dark grey, approaching black, with white accents running down the front break. Underneath rested a white, long-sleeved button-down shirt with vertical linings, a black ribbon for the collar, and matching dark pants. At the bottom corner, nearby my own laundry basket, rested a pair of brown dress shoes and a brown suitcase, carry bag.

"Hey, Mrs. Hyoudou, what's this thing here?" I pointed, addressing the primordial, overtly fancy elephant in the room, and my foster mom seemed unreasonably delighted about my sudden discovery.

"Oh, yay! Issei, do you like how it looks? Starting next week, this'll be your new school uniform!"

Despite the years of learning to conceal my emotions, I still stuttered. "W-What?"

"Doctor Sakura instructed us to enroll you in high school, so next week you'll be a proud second-year student of Kuoh Private Academy, the best school around! She assisted in your admission, so there's no need for an entrance exam. How great is that?"

I thought about how there were more than one hundred thousand other foster homes across the islands of Japan and how it seemed that I was now stuck with the one family that wanted to see me in school. Me: an orphan in a world without pity.

* * *

I couldn't get inside the bathroom. I tried opening it the way Mrs. Hyoudou instructed; I jiggled it, lightly, and struggled to get it to turn in the other direction, but no go. I took a break to pace around the hallway, trying my best not to vent out a sea of anger towards an inanimate object, and thought about kicking it wide open, but I wasn't too sure how well my foster parents would take that.

The thought grated me, and I decided to give it one, final "good ol' college try". Feeling victorious, I gripped the lever with a tad more force, this time around, and pulled.

Clang—!

My optimism was short-lived, and I felt especially stupid, gazing down at the broken knob resting between my calloused fingers. The instinct to glance around for the random, sudden appearance of an angry parent, only further validated my own sense of guilt, and I swiftly opened the broken door to get inside as fast as possible.

I tried to forget the incident for the time being, and slowly undressed for the first, genuine shower in my new home, moving on to address the man in the mirror.

The young man who stared back at me was born of foreign descent, his features equally toughened—a hooked, feint scar resided just under his brow and lower lip—and undistinguished except for the deep, dark blue of his eyes, which moved up to a thick head of darkened curly dirty-blond hair. I took in a breath and flexed, hardening the developed muscles in my neck and shoulders. I had trained a lot during my time spent at the hospital, whenever I wasn't reading instead. Doctor Sakura often commentated I was always in a sort of frenzy, never maintained. I'd cycle for hours on hours, followed shortly by lifting weights—the last I got to, in secret, was thirty reps of a barbell, overhead press, carrying 550 pounds. I enjoyed the burning pain, and the idea of constantly improving, the challenge to blow past one's limits.

While my form was broad, well built, and considerably athletic, more so than the average student based on my age, it wasn't a true testament to my real strength. Noticing my unnatural abilities and strength, Doctor Sakura calculated that my body, remarkably, lacked the Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness that plagued humans, collectively, whenever their bodies grew in strength. My muscles still inflamed and grew sore after a serious workout, yet the time I needed to heal after was practically non-existent.

It was supposedly a baffling discovery, according to her, but it remained our secret. I never asked why, I just gathered it was to my benefit.

The shower was quick and uneventful—I had hot water at the hospital—and I comfortably ventured back to my new room. I sat, lazily, in the chair by my duffle bag, and broke out _Frankenstein_ to continue from where I'd left off in the car ride. I never closed my closet, and, suddenly, found myself peering inside my closet, at the school uniform my foster mom had been gushing over from earlier.

"Why the heck not…" I spoke to nobody, maybe Him, and abandoned _Victor _and his _Creature_ once more, pulling out the hanger that supported the extravagant items. I picked out the white shirt, dropping the rest of the catalogue out over my bed, and began fitting myself into the fabric of my future school uniform right before…

Shhh—rippp—!

The threaded, posh streams of the shirt tore in two, right before my eyes, buckling under the pressure of my sizable forearms and physique. "Oh, hell…"

Regardless, the shirt wasn't my size.

* * *

Downstairs, I glanced back to the clock sitting high above the living room wall: 11:30. She'd be done with work for the day; we'd always play chess around seven or at least eight. I glanced around for the home phone, finally discovering it by the slice of wall attached to the kitchen counter. I'd never used one before, but I'd seen some TV shows before and pushed one of the little buttons that had a tiny phone image on it, was rewarded with a chirp and slow ring, and was immediately homesick.

"Hello, this is Doctor Sakura."

"If you could look out your window, across all of Kyoto, you would see a young, yet ruggedly handsome, student-to-be safely tucked away in his new home."

There was a pause. "You doing okay?"

Evidently, I was in trouble. "Is that a problem?"

Another paused, followed by the sound of her sweet laughter. "No, not at all, but how on earth did you get this number?"

"The internet." I reached over and pulled up a chair from the counter to sit. "I just wanted to call you and talk about books and stuff, like we usually do…" There was even another pause, and I started getting a little miffed. "Sakura…"

"Issei."

It was a short word, but it had a lot behind it. A jolt of pain ravaged the muscle that supported my body's blood flow, and I felt like crushing the cheap plastic emitting the soft tone of her breath. "Hello?"

"Stop." Though there was no physical way, I swear I could feel Sakura looking down on me from miles away. "You're a bright, gifted eighteen-year-old boy, finally reaping the rewards of society, and I'm an old, outdated physician. I know you wanted something between us… but we're years apart, and you were my patient, Issei. Your extraordinary case has finally been settled. You're free."

I looked up at the living room clock, heart heavy, and tried not to sniffle. "I just…"

"No, Issei…" The irritation was returning to her voice. "…Do me a favor, one last time. Please." Her crossness dissipated, and I promptly listened. "Give this new life of yours a chance, one week at least, and in due time you'll forget all about me. Okay? Do you think you can do that for me?"

I failed to respond, cooped up with far too many emotions for my own good.

"Thanks, Issei. Goodbye and good luck. I know you're going to be just fine."

"I'm getting that." I hung up. There wasn't any reason to argue; I'd lose. The longest silence since I'd arrived to my new home. By the time I'd returned the phone to it's stationed port, it was already late, and the woman I had feelings for was long gone. I had to smile and shake my head, ignoring the tears. "Already?" I watched the clock on the wall, thought of the ripped shirt on the bed, my foster parents peacefully asleep, and sighed.

One week passed, but Doctor Sakura never left my mind.

* * *

The first morning of school; I awed at the sea of vibrant pink and white cherry blossom petals that flew overhead, shooting high into the bright sky, a reminder that I was in a different world to any I'd previously known. The stacked stone brickwork looked like the castled defenses of the Great Wall of China along the school entranceway, with the bright sunrise illuminating the wall as if it was some gateway to Heaven. I could hear the bickering and socializing of the many classmates surrounding me, and I seriously worried that I would not fit in this place. I'd never actually been to a school before, no less a high school, so maybe that's why everyone kept shooting stares in my general direction. Still, what was most puzzling to me, conversely, was that I'd yet to single out even one guy. Everywhere, in every nook-and-cranny, there were girls only, and I was starting to think I was somehow in the wrong place.

I shook my head, following the rest of the entourage, until someone eventually braved me. "Yo, Tarzan, you lost?" I watched as a poised student around my age made his way across the sidewalk and approached my right, smiling wide enough to reveal his back teeth. His head was shaved clean and he wore the school blazer unbuttoned.

"Depends," I shrugged, then jabbed a thumb in the opposite direction. "This Kuoh Private Academy?"

"Nah, Sherlock, this is the gateway to _Narnia_."

I wished I understood the reference; it dawned on me that this wouldn't be the last time that I'd misunderstand a mention to mainstream culture. "Mind if I tag along then?"

He scratched his eye, not totally uninterested, and kept up that wide, wolfish grin. "Shit, man. Welcome to paradise on earth. What's your name?"

"Issei." I paused a moment. "Issei Hyoudou." Saying that was going to get some used to. "How about you, wise guy?" I smiled, knowing full-well how to banter too.

"Wise guy?" That got a laugh out of him. "I'm Matsuda, second-year."

"Guess that means we're in the same boat."

His right eyebrow rose in a curve. "Yeah? Dude, that's all you had to say! There's like a one-to-sixty ration of guys-to-chicks in this school. We need the extra manpower!"

We strolled left and went towards the large, oversized school ahead, our designation. It was a beautiful day, and the overhead structure shined from the direct sunlight and encompassed the entirety of my view, almost as if expressing its undeniable grandeur. It was less of what I imagined to be a school and more of an overly crafted, exotic mansion. The campus also extended just beyond the main school building, and I glanced by at the other surrounding structures. "Isn't this place like… overly fancy…?"

"This used to be an all-girls school. That's why it's all sunshine and rainbows."

His tidbit of information was useful, and the obvious lack of male students was starting to make sense to me. "When did they decide to assign it co-ed?"

"Shit, I wanna say like three years ago, maybe, but I dunno."

As he talked, I studied this new, mysterious environment of mine. It was amazing to me just how many students were still walking to school. There were girls laughing and walking arm in arm, girls swinging their school bags in a desperate pursuit of momentum, and another male student, approaching us, rocking the dark school blazer buttoned up and a pair of ordinary spectacles.

I watched as Matsuda greeted him up with a unique sort of handshake and then pointed at me. "We finally got ourselves a trio of second years, my guy! _The circle is now complete_!" Again, the endless concoction of art, music, and literature references were throwing me off. I really needed to visit a library for once, rather than steal from it.

I nodded. "I'm Issei."

He copied me, and unlike Motohama, smiled like a normal human being. "Issei? Howdy, I'm Motohama. This shmuck's only friend." His voice was remarkably cultured, and I looked at him for a second more—unable to see the eyes behind his thick glasses—and then continued on with Matsuda.

"He's a dick."

"Correction: I'm a 'well-mannered' dick." He pointed towards the far right end of the school, somewhere far off. "You skipping first hour?"

Matsuda smiled some more. "You know it!" He bumped my shoulder, passing on the invitation. "Issei, wanna join us?"

I was surprised by my classmate's hasty offer. "I, umm…"

"Sorry, he's a little too forward, huh?" He waited. "I guess he really is, since you're not talking." The sudden self-scratching of his scalpel was meant to snag my attention.

"No, I was just thinking. I do that, sometimes, before I talk."

"Oh, okay." He grinned and gently slapped Matsuda on the back. "You should do that more often, then everyone won't think you're a raging dumbass."

"Hop off, four-eyes." They were still curious if I wanted to join them, and after a jangled conversation of bluffs, evasions, challenges and general bullshit, I gave in to the shared charisma of my two classmates, and I joined them in a secluded spot behind the hedges of the main building.

Motohama studied me for a little moment and then smirked. "Are you even from Japan, Issei?" Quite unlike Matsuda, I had the immediate feeling that Motohama was legitimately perceptive, granted all the signs were there. "You're also fucking jacked." I watched him sit up against the bark of a tree, enjoying the shade.

"Yep," I sat up straight, "but I don't know my real parents."

"Orphan; tragic." He shrugged and continued to smile. By that point, I'd noticed the pen and notepad in his hands. I'm sure he was aware I was staring at him, so he undid his blazer to confirm my suspicions. I noticed the press tag at once, a prized magnetic badge hung over his neck, and asked whom he worked for. "Nobody," he yawned with gaping jaws. "I'm just sort of getting the feel of things; I'm writing a book: Tig Ol' Bitties."

"Dude," Matsuda cupped both of hands up under his chest, "the amount of titties, shape-and-size, at this school…" His face twisted into one hell of a perverted smirk. "This place really is Nirvana."

"You two must be popular."

"Shit," Motohama laughed, "I wish." He paused and then inclined his head a little. "This place used to be an all-girls' school, not until a couple of years ago that is. As the grades go down, the amount of guys go up, but girls still outnumber us by quite the margin." His glasses were falling, so he adjusted them accordingly. "Here, the girls have all the authority, and we're stuck with the scraps."

I nodded and pointed. "But that still doesn't explain the pass."

He wrote on his notepad and looked back at me. "_Kuoh Times_: Copy-editor."

"He's basically a super faggot."

"I don't know what that is." I replied.

"Ignore Humpty-Dumpty," he pointed the pen at me, "how old are you, dude?"

"Eighteen."

"You're eighteen?!" I nodded. Matsuda grinned, suddenly, and reached into his blazer, pulling out a messy-looking cigarette. "Okay then. Here," he said, "have a joint."

"Dude!" Motohama practically dropped his notepad. "How'd you sneak that in here?!"

"Cause I'm the only man of culture in this whole pompous shithole," his eyes suddenly met with mine. "Ya dig, motherfucker?"

"Put that away, dumbass!" Motohama looked considerably apprehensive.

Matsuda ignored him and held it out to me, and suddenly, without warning, I was thrown into one of those definitive instants, a fork in the road. Here I was on my first day of school, ever, and it could quite possibly turn into my last. I knew what it was; back at the hospital, the guards often smoked grass whenever they had some free time.

I felt, at that moment, a weird mixture of panic and anticipation. For a whole, solid week I'd been living in Kuoh, trying to bury and forget my unresolved feelings for Doctor Sakura. And now, with this joint in front of my face, everything, emotionally, poured back into my heart like a mountainside avalanche. By the time I'd returned to reality, Matsuda had already lit the lumpy little marijuana cigarette for me.

Screw it.

With the joint in my hand, glowing in the darkness of the nearby shade as I inhaled, I figured, well, I may as well get as numb as I can. Then, in a moment of fine inspiration, I took a nice lungful and turned my head upwards to stare at the puffy clouds passing by. For eighteen long years, since I can remember, a nameless, dreadful voice drifts from within the deep confines of my very consciousness, as if stirring from a continual, great slumber. A bottomless voice, He speaks to me, every so often; sometimes it's advice, and sometimes it's a simple complaint or vocal disdain for his present surroundings. Yet, ever since I've started living here, in Kuoh, and abandoned the haven of Doctor Sakura and the boundaries of the hospital, he's been awfully quiet. In that moment, between the puffs of hazy smoke and bright autumn sunlight, I wondered if I truly was crazy.

All this was running through my head as the joint came back to me, and my sense of humor returned along with my sense of taste, and I realized, after three or four novice tokes, that I was smoking some really retrograde shit, and I wasn't feeling jack. "What the hell," I said, "this is really awful stuff, where did you get it, the backwoods?"

My classmate who'd given it to me laughed and said, "Dude, that's THC. What you taste, pal, is old school Colombian. It's chemical grass synthetic stuff. The guy I got it from soaked it in THC and dried it out."

Synthetic grass! I was tempted to jam the butt of the thing into the bald bastard's eye, maybe that'd show him! All this time, and I wasn't even smoking grass, but some kind of neo-legal bastardized Colombian that tasted like the toilet water from a public restroom. This, for one, was definitely not worth getting expelled over on the first day of classes.

It was just about then that I got the first rush. THC, DMZ, OJT— the letters didn't matter, I was stoned. Matsuda and Motohama suddenly looked like they were over nine feet tall and the trees above the courtyard seemed to press down on us; the light coming from the sky grew brighter, and bluer, and seemed to track as I wandered off to find a bathroom. I really needed to find a bathroom.

It didn't take me long to realize that I was a goddamn lightweight, and that I should get the hell out of dodge while I could still walk. The scene was bad enough with a perfectly straight head; peripheral vision was the key to survival—you had to know what was happening all around you and never get out of range of at least one opening to run through when the attack came. Which was no place to be with a fuzzy head…

…What the actual fuck was I saying?!

My face felt like it was slowly turning to putty; with adrenaline up so high, for so long, that I knew I'd collapse soon as I'd reached the facilities, wherever the hell they might be. I aimed myself across the sidewalk and into the nearest door I could reach, where it suddenly occurred to me—how was I going to walk up the steps?

"KYAH!" I accidentally scared a girl, nearby, as I pushed through and practically stumbled onto the floor of the inside hallway. Honestly, I'd scream too. I might have only stood around 5'7, but I was physically bigger than everybody else on campus.

Akin to a headless chicken, I found and then latched myself violently onto the stairwell leading upstairs, climbing on all fours like a bonafide primate. My head felt like it was close to exploding into a shower of chunky confetti, and with each upwards step I felt closer to puking my guts. I prayed that the male washroom was somewhere close by as I neared the top of the second floor, when, suddenly, the cries of my scared classmates shifted into joyous squeals and whispered fits of excitement and girlish shrieking.

"Hey, is that?"

"Oh my God, no way! It totally is! It's Big Sister Rias!"

"She's so beautiful and perfect in every way!"

"Wait, is she walking over to that crazy guy?"

"Holy crap, she is! No way!"

I took a deep breath, ignoring the surrounding ruckus, and stopped climbing. My hands felt cool against the wall. "I'm okay." I tried to laugh, but I think all I accomplished was a funny face, so I dipped my head back down and blinked to clear my vision.

"Are you alright?" The voice that spoke out to me from above was seductive and silky like the strings of a first rate violin, yet extraordinarily refined; I'd yet to hear a voice so imposing and firm. I looked up from the steps, and it dawned on me that my temporary high had mysteriously cleared. She looked at me, not sure. "Do you want me to get the nurse?"

An angel. I blinked, but that's indeed what I was looking at. Standing at the edge of the steps, enclosed by an awed school body, was an unbelievably gorgeous figure, watching me with a pair of bright, hypnotic, ocean blue eyes. She wore the traditional school uniform, a white long-sleeved, button-down shirt with vertical linings that barely held up a pair of spherical, earth-shattering breasts, tied together by a black ribbon. Her beautiful European heritage, uncovered by exposed porcelain skin, reminding me of fine, expensive china, was white as arctic snow, the rest hidden by a black cape rested over the shoulders, a matching button-down corset, and a vivid magenta skirt with white accents. Gorgeous. I'd never seen a human more mesmerizing, noble, and indescribable in my God given life, and my body froze in awe.

She was tall and curvilinear, with slim proportions that were nothing like a normal student's. Yet, what captivated me most was the deep, vibrant red—the crimson of her long hair, reaching all the way down to her sensual hips. Her long, crimson hair swayed gently with each and every graceful, elegant step downwards. My breathing stopped as she drew nearer; I was close enough to where I could smell her incredible fragrance, stimulating like the pleasant weather of spring morning.

Suddenly, as she slowly revealed a blinding, dazzling smile—wooing the remaining passerby and I in a complete stir—a sense of foreboding engulfed my heart like a dark storm, and I slowly began to fear her mortal beauty… mortality…

Something about my classmate… was not mortal…

I watched, dreading the hypnotic sway, back-and-forth, of her brilliant crimson hair, and suddenly recalled, petrified, the passage from _Revelations 12:9_: _And the great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him._

_**Devil…!**_ His words, suddenly returning, brassy and foreboding, bore deep into my skull, and I felt my knees buckle a little. _**Retreat, now…!**_ He roared, endeavoring to return me to reality. But the next thing I knew—shocking everyone—the stranger stood on the final step before mine, crouching to somewhat gain a similarity in height, and leaned forward into my left ear, covering my nose with her fragrant crimson hair, and sweetly whispered…

"Welcome to Kuoh Private Academy," I felt a sharp pain of jolt, followed by a series of harsh chills rush down my back, "Wielder of the Booster Gear."


	2. Chapter 2

_"Whilst the greater number of our nocturnal visions are perhaps no more than faint and fantastic reflections of our waking experiences—Freud to the contrary with his puerile symbolism—there are still a certain remainder whose immundane and ethereal character permits of no ordinary interpretation, and whose vaguely exciting and disquieting effect suggests possible minute glimpses into a sphere of mental existence no less important than physical life, yet separated from that life by an all but impassable barrier." – (Beyond the Wall of Sleep, H.P. Lovecraft)_

* * *

Chapter Two: The Bridge Between Gaps…

The faint glow of the sun slowly covered the adjoining stairway, and it felt like I was in the turret of an unending castle. My eyes must have grown tired because, when I blinked, her crimson hair grew brighter, blindingly so. I tried to focus, but the strain of something unknown tore apart my thoughts, making it feel like I was dragging sandpaper over my irises. I closed them and opened them again, but the image of my beautiful classmate remained steadfast, painfully glaring, and blurred.

A small panic sparked, and I shifted backwards, but she put out a tender hand and stilled me. It was only when the image shifted and I heard the intricate melody of her soft, gentle voice that, notwithstanding my physique, I suddenly grasped that my strength was completely gone. "That's it… rest. You're going to be just fine."

The figure stepped forward, her arms outstretched around my neck as the sweet, scented fragrance of strawberry jam swept the inside of my nose and her white long-sleeved, button-down uniform rose higher. I sagged a little, and my head cushioned against the soft, fluffy padding of her ample, elastic breasts. God, they were soft.

Infinitely far; yet now, suddenly near. I was tenderly held in a warm, loving embrace.

Maybe it was the lingering high of the drugs; or possibly, too, the soft, affectionate sensation of a woman; or perhaps the emotional drain thanks to my prior late outings; but my eyes forced themselves closed as my consciousness slowly faded into that of a deep, relaxing slumber, and the darkness encroached itself upon me…

Thus, on my first day of school, ever, I slept in the arms of a woman, on some random stairs…

Perfect going, nibble-stick…

* * *

It was silent, even too quiet. The dark air surrounding me was a never-ending, boundless void. I couldn't see, taste, or even feel my surroundings.

Slowly, the pitch-black darkness began to disperse, and it took a moment for me to realize that something was not specifically right about this.

Black fog.

I couldn't see my body, yet I instantly tasted the sharp tang of smoke in those glands at the front of my throat, and when I took another breath, I choked and my eyes began to tear. I tried to swing myself around and away from the aroma, however I was but a speck of conscious in the void, a prisoner. I panicked, and time seemed to slow, and what I saw overhead almost dumped me anyway.

Hell.

It was a sea of all-encompassing fire with an inverted layer of smoke below the flames at a height of well-over four hundred feet above, arching down with what seemed to be forty-mile-an-hour-gale-force winds. I'd never seen anything quite like it, and I surged with both panic and awe. It was an endless inferno; it was as if the immediate world was like some giant coliseum suddenly on fire.

I'd read that some great fires—typically wildfires—have been clocked at over six miles an hour, able to bridge gaps and jump rivers and fire blocks; this one seemed alive and was steamrolling, transforming from a crown fire to a whirl. The vortex of flame, preceded by the poisonous gases, superheated air, and reflected heat, would be on me in less than two minutes—well before that, it would cook my lungs.

Even if this was just my consciousness, I wasn't taking anything for granted.

I smelled the bitterness of the many flames; it pricked my nostrils so acutely I was certain they'd bleed. But the smell of burning was only the beginning. My eyes continued to profusely tear, blindingly. I tried looking away from the surrounding destruction and attempted to clear the blistering heat from my face and the wild thoughts that swept through my mind like a swarm of angry birds.

I screamed and tried shutting my eyes, but I had no eyelids to close, and nothing escaped my lips as the searing flames encompassed me whole…

And then, there was darkness. Everything was silent.

_**"Bachgen, thou hearken mín nigh-almighty grandeur…?"**_

Suddenly, a deep voice shook the ceaseless void. A deep growl, like something belonging to an ancient being, the Great One; the thing mankind secretly fears. The overwhelming noise was like that of a hurling lightning bolt coming down from a great tempest, the heavens. If I had teeth, presently, they'd be trembling into dust.

I peered into the darkness, and said nothing. Even if I could remember the most basic words of greeting, my tongue would not have spoken them. My mouth remained shut as I wildly glimpsed into the ceaseless dimness for whatever spoke out to me.

And then, light.

_**"Then make haste, cohort, and heed my call!"**_

It came from Him: from the pair of bright crimson eyes, who now, with keen notice, subjugated my lone, solitary field of view. A fitful stream of molten magma, like the earth's deep heated core: red, hot, and destructive. For some time now, I'd speculated just who, even what, He was.

Yet, the skill to picture this eminence was beyond me, so I'd never tried.

_**"Look upon me, Bachgen (Boy)! Good, good!"**_

He stared at me, like a cat eyeing it's prey, and he was beaming.

His big fiery eyes complemented his speech; the vocals were powerful enough to damage my eardrums. His head was lengthy and massive; the skull was extremely wide at the rear but had a narrow snout, perhaps allowing for binocular vision. Above, wisps of smoke exited his large nostrils, and the tip of his upper jaw was U-shaped and curved all the way to his ears, where two massive black horns projected downwards.

The protruding teeth displayed marked heterodonty, similar to that of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The array of teeth at the front of the upper jaw were closely packed, D-shaped in cross section, and had strengthening ridges on the rear surface, where the tips were reinforced as chisel-like blades and curved backwards. The remaining teeth were robust, like oversized bananas rather than daggers, and more widely spaced.

The long neck was covered in crimson jagged scales and formed a natural S-shaped curve, but was far more muscular to support the massive beast of that cranium.

His forelimbs and arms were huge, scarred, and brawny, sporting several large, sharp claws that practically reminded me of medieval spears. Below his packed under-parts, two hind limbs floated midair alongside a long and heavy coiled tail; both thick and hardened like two tree trunks. However, my eyes never left his massively spread wings, which were akin to those of an incalculable bat.

It was then, in equal shock and horror, that I realized just what this creature… no… this being was…

_**"You seem unsettled!"**_

Despite being nothing more than a soul, alone amongst this dark vacuum, I could still feel myself shake alongside the tremors caused by his devastating laughter.

It was a dragon, a goddamn dragon.

_**"The incantation has finally been broken, thus we may now suitably converse."**_

Incantation? The thought dissipated as soon as it came, whenever his rooted eyes, seeking me in the darkness, flashed with a kind of overpowering fascination. I was closer to him than I thought, and he seemed to move towards me like a great ocean yacht approaching a tiny, small town marina.

I'd give anything to escape this present nightmare and return to the real world, perhaps even cradle tight that beautiful girl from earlier.

_**"Would you now?"**_ said the dragon apparently curious, as if he were reading my thoughts, though his tone remained mysterious and frightful to me. Yet, oddly enough, I slowly began feel my strained heart relax, and I was starting to come to a strange sense that, perhaps, I had nothing to genuinely fear from this immaculate being.

Call it a gut feeling.

_**"You're beginning to lighten up,"**_ the dragon continued smiling away with those gargantuan swords, _**"good."**_ His incredible wings drooped back to his sides and the dragon leaned his long neck forward, bringing his massive expression only a few feet from mine. _**"Long awaited introductions are in order, friend. Don't be afraid. Speak."**_

If I could somehow muster the strength or will to talk with this great being, I would've, but my mouth remained sealed shut like the entranceway to Fort Knox.

Seeing my pitiful state, the dragon really did laugh. _**"My apologies. So much is happening to you today. You have a great many sorrows burning in your heart, and you'll have more sorrows with someone very close to you in the not so distant future."**_

Despite my own condition and the setting, I thought of my adopted parents, Doctor Sakura, and my mysterious, beautiful classmates from only moments ago…

She called me a wielder of a… Boosted Gear…

If anything, what could it all mean?

Suddenly, my voice decided to introduce itself. "I-Is this for real…?" I stuttered.

I stuttered my words in front of a dragon.

He showed off an array of brilliant teeth again. _**"Undoubtedly. We presently dwell within the confines of your very soul, or should I say, our soul." His voice resounded in his great chest. "Tell me, Bachgen (Boy), what is the current year?"**_

I had to think—2017.

_**"What month is it now?"**_

I wasn't a fan of that. "August."

_**"Hmm…"**_ He grunted._** "Day of the week?"**_

"It's Monday, early Monday morning."

_**"I see…"** _Despite floating alongside me in the void, he shuffled his enormous feet. _**"So it's been forty-eight years now."**_

I continued to look up at the giant. "…I don't want to come off as pushy, Mr. Dragon, but do you mind explaining to me just what's happening…?"

He nodded and then glanced at the darkness to our left. _**"Maybe that would've been better."** _His massive head turned back to me; his crimson eyes came back to mine. _**"You don't miss much, do you, Bachgen (Boy)?"**_

I smiled. "…Nope." I was starting to like him, as much as you can like a giant, mystical fire-breathing lizard that's accompanied you in the midst of your dreams. "So spill the beans."

He stood there looking down at me, and I was sure that even if I could've made out more of his face, I still wouldn't have been able to make out his expression. It was hard not to try, though. His mammoth scaled chest rose and fell, but he said nothing more.

Without warning, the great, many flames I'd succumbed to earlier reignited ubiquitously, again encasing us both in a world of fire. He laughed again, softer this time. _**"Indeed I shall! But before that, endure to resume mounting your astonishing strength, and we will both meet once again, Partner!"**_

The fire blinded me. "Wait!" Just before the dream concluded, I shouted at the top of my lungs, hoping he would hear. "I'll definitely be back, you understand?!"

A goddamned dragon…

* * *

Definitely a noise.

I'd been lying deep in sleep when I thought I'd heard something. This was different to the deep voice, the dragon, which I had been just introduced to—a snuffling, huffing noise that I could hear all around me.

The dream was so real it left me shaken and unsure of which world I was in. I shrugged off the covers to a bed; I pushed my hair out from eyes and sat up. I'd just returned from a restless, vision-haunted sleep, so I blinked to make sure I'd seen what I'd seen, and I had.

I was on fire, or more appropriately, I had been. I stared down, equally bewildered and distressed, at the faint trickles of painless sun-colored flame, accompanied by flickering currents of mauve electricity, which ran up my arms, my hands, and invaded my blood, veins, and flesh; slowly dying out as the time passed.

"What the fuck…" I unknowingly gasped, struggling to pace my breathing. By the time my uncanny flashes had gone away I was already so freaked out and high on adrenaline that thought I would probably pass out all over again.

Must have be the aftereffect of that joint, rolled THC.

The bed I'd been sleeping in was dark and burnt, charbroiled to hell, but it didn't smell or seem to smoke. God, I must be seeing things. Oh, God.

I reached out and dragged back the grey curtain that hid my view, revealing a lonesome, sterile room, what I could only guess to be the school infirmary. Despite the many ongoing abnormalities, the dragon's words echoed in my head. Incantation. Like a spell? Was something keeping me from speaking to him? Was it a confession? An indictment? Why did he allude to us sharing a soul?

I discovered my briefcase by the bed and searched around its contents for the mobile phone Mrs. Hyoudou had gifted me right before this first day of school. I fumbled around with the screen passcode, again questioning my age, and discovered the time: 2:07.

Outside the window, I could see storm clouds far out in the distance. I struggled to shove my phone away and slowly forced myself up.

I stumbled a little as I pushed myself past the infirmary exit, needing to escape this place. Once again, I was just another wondering soul of self-pity.

* * *

I didn't make it very far, but I made it outside and, with the number of hallways and stairwells I had to use, that was a miracle in itself. I walked through an exit doorway and onto the Kuoh Private Academy campus. It was summer, even though it was technically already fall, and all the evening first years and upperclassmen were scrambling to their final classes of the day. They looked as asleep as I felt.

I wondered how lousy I looked, but eventually decided to not care.

There were a few roach-coaches across the street, past campus, and I figured I could get one of those bottled coffees from one of the food carts without contracting dysentery. As I stood in line, I noticed people looking at me, and I figured I'd strangle the first one that made a smart comment. I stepped up to the counter and asked for the yellow can, which cost me a couple yen.

"Here ya go, Whitey."

I let him live.

I wandered back across and sat on one of the low cement walls that had flowering shrubs planted behind them. My back felt funny and my shoulders ached; surprisingly little damage for a guy who was just on fire, ostensibly. Despite the ominous clouds off in the distance, it was a gorgeous day, and the cherry blossoms were exploding in a riot of effusive color. I pulled in a deep breath. Despite the tumultuous day (that's me being sarcastic), something still particularly bothered me.

I cracked open the can to try and get in a quick sip when someone moved my school bag and sat on the wall besides me.

She was beautiful and reminded me of someone, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Her long dark hair was sleek like one of those models' you'd see in the Olay ads; she had particularly vivid, nebula violet eyes; and noticeably sensual curves, outlined by a light brown uniform and flannel skirt. She carried her own distinctive school bag.

She smiled and pointed to the can in my hand. "Is that coffee?" Her voice was soft and cheery, matching her relaxed, cute appearance.

I looked at the cup. "I'm just waiting for it to cool."

"Cold canned coffee, really?" She reached out a snowy hand, reminding me of my mysterious crimson haired classmate. "Here, I'll show you what to do with that." Curious, I handed her the drink, and she poured it out on the sidewalk. A random classmate, lugging a stack of books, was walking past and gave her a dirty look.

"That was my coffee."

"No, this is your coffee." She handed me another colorful can from one of the bags, and I held it with both hands. She opened her own and took a sip. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks." I tired not to fall for her eyes; woman could be fickle. "I'm Issei."

"Yuuma." She crossed her legs at the ankle, putting her white socks in full view. "Yuuma Amano." I was starting to think this girl was more than just a fellow student.

I opened my coffee and looked at the decisively dark brew. "This looks strong."

"Espresso, double-shot. I thought you could use it." She looked at me. "You were kinda giving of the energy of… I don't know, a sick puppy!" Her giggle was sweet.

I took a sip. "So you just took pity on some random guy?"

"A random, saddened, cute guy." She winked and my heart leapt. "Big difference."

I could feel my face heat up and tried not to directly look at her, putting on my big boy voice. "Thanks…"

Her ruby lips drew back into a mischievous little smile. "You're very welcome. Oh, if you're hungry too." She dug into the bag and handed a collection of biscuits and a tiny paper napkin. "Biscotti. I always keep it around for emergencies."

"Oh, cool. Thanks."

She chewed on one herself, and I watched as she unconsciously began swinging her intertwined soft legs. "Almond, my favorite." The biscuits were good, and the only sound for a while was the munching of our communal breakfast. I noticed she was looking at me again, so I smiled as best I could. I was still struggling to comprehend why or how such a beauty would find any interest in me. "What year are you?"

"Second," I bit into another cookie, "you?"

She munched some more. "Same." She glanced over my uniform. "Different school, though. I'm not smart enough to get into the Kuoh Private Academy, but I do love the food stands stationed outside your campus. That's why I drop by every-so-often."

"Is it really that special?"

She watched me for a long while. I took another breath and looked above the collection of food carts to the clear blue sky. I could feel the thumping in my chest as the temptation to turn and count the floors of the main building up to five tugged at my jaw. A few fat sparrows ambled over from across the street and positioned themselves in front of us. I broke off a little cookie and tossed it their way. They grabbed the pieces and looked at me for some more, giving up on Yuuma as a native.

"You don't think so?"

I nodded. "Well, it's only been one day. One weird day, I might add."

She didn't say anything for a while. "Everyone has those."

I looked at her, pouting like a child. "How do you know?"

She ignored my ridiculous question, smiled, and looked back into the bag. "I got another pack of these cookies, if you'd like them."

I had been about to apologize, but took another deep breath instead; the darkness was there as we made small talk. I had the most outrageous number of uncanny experiences today, and now I sat here with a pretty girl having small talk. Ridiculous. "Sure, thanks."

"You're very welcome."

I tossed the sparrows more of the cookie. "I'm not very particular when it comes to food."

She smiled. "That so?" She sipped her coffee and watched as I continued to feed the birds. "I may have to toughen you up a bit this semester, then."

I blinked. "Is that…?"

She turned, beaming. "A date," she reached into the bag for something, "probably."

The sparrows were now standing on the wide part of my school shoes, happily taking the crumbs from my fingers. I, meanwhile, remained speechless.

"What's your number, Issei?" She handed me a phone decorated in pink glamour with one hand and took a sip from the coffee with another, and her violet eyes stayed happy. "You got plans this afternoon?"

The darkness that was with me begin to dissipate elsewhere, someplace which I did not care, and a faint glimmer of excitement begin to unfolding like a crisp linen tablecloth, snapping across the expanse of a long table and floating down to cover everything.

Dragon? Catching on fire? Had to have been the lingering side affects of that nasty joint that bald asshole gave me. This, this is what mattered.

I took the phone and handed the remainder of the biscotti to the birds, trying hard not to get to giddy with delight. "Not at the moment, not really."

I didn't attend even a single class that day.

* * *

An hour or so passed, the skies were looking more threatening, and I wasn't sure if it was thunder I was hearing in the distance or the train on the bridge. I eventually made it home, but there was no car in the driveway. I turned and walked to the door, reached above the mailbox, and pulled down a note with the key. Mr. Hyoudou quickly learned I wasn't so good with doors after the bathroom incident, so he had the key filed so that it would now operate smoothly in the lock. I opened the door and stepped inside.

I dropped off my bag and shoes in the entry hallway and walked into the kitchen. I was hungry and there was a random restaurant menu by the toaster, which gave me the luxury of narrowing down my choices. I opened the fridge and there was a six-pack of Yebisu, so I popped a can open and drank it while I went upstairs to the bathroom. Mr. Hyoudou would give me some crap later for drinking that beer, but I was okay with that. I took a shower and got some clean clothes from my duffle, which I kept in the closet. Most of the stuff Mrs. Hyoudou had bought me was too small anyways.

The clock downstairs told me I still had three hours before they would be back, so I got the pad from beside the phone and read the numerous and assorted messages from practically everybody in the neighborhood.

There were no messages from Doctor Sakura.

I shuttled the resurging, hurt thoughts toward the back of my mind and placed the notebook on the coffee table. I had been here a full week and hadn't called her once, just as promised. I suppose I had been waiting for my feelings to move on, yet now maybe was the time to do so. I should call.

I looked at the phone but just didn't have the energy. I took a deep breath, lay back against the pillows on the sofa, and closed my eyes. After what seemed like a long time, I was finally about to go to sleep…

Then, the phone rang, and I lifted my eyelids to stare over at the ticking arms of the living room clock that told me that I'd been sitting there for about half-an-hour. I heard Mr. Hyoudou's recorded voice on the answering machine and heard the beep. "Hi, honey, me and dad are going to be out late tonight. I just wanted to check in and tell you that there's plenty of food in the fridge you can warm up for dinner." She sounded tired. "Please call me when you're available. I love you, kiddo!" I was about to reach for the phone when the line went dead.

I sighed and went upstairs to the terrace doors and listened to the sporadic drops hit the roof. It was a gentle rainfall that unfocused the edges of the town night, making all the surfaces glisten. I watched the drops fall slowly past the white of the streetlights and into the widening pools on our grass. I looked up, in the distance, at the span of the bridge connecting the train yard to Kyoto and listened to the steady thrum of the late night traffic…

I wasn't quite feeling the affects of the alcohol yet, so I went downstairs for another beer. The lights were off, but I didn't remember turning them on to begin with.

That's when I heard something—a creaky, discomforting sound that reminded me of an old wooden armchair. Right before entering the kitchen, I thought I saw movement from somewhere in the darkness of the living room. I had just about convinced myself that it was nothing when a hint of movement came into my view.

That's when I began to feel my heart in my mouth.

Even in the pitch black he was pretty easy to spot; it was the smirk. Tall and thin, grey dress shirt and a long black raincoat. He had long dark hair underneath a brown fedora, classic Waspish good looks, and all I could think of was the frightening feeling I experienced when encountering my classmate in the morning.

I blinked and said "yo", and he actually nodded to me.

"Yo." He kept coming toward me. I was looking a little closer now, but it was only when I noticed the dried blood stained on his gloves that I really began to panic.

"What the fuck! Who the hell are you!? How did you get in here!?" I raised my voice, but he caught me with a hand to the shoulder, which propelled me to the far wall. I hit the drywall hard enough to make a dent in it, but quickly pulled myself up, thanking the Lord that my back muscles took most of the brunt force.

He was strong, enough so even to throw me with little-to-no-effort. He didn't move, but his eyes flicked around the contained space. I moved about two more feet back.

"You know what I am?"

"If that's your classification of a formality, then you're kidding yourself." I had the sneaking suspicion he wasn't buying time, and I looked around my kitchen again, thinking that somebody should be coming to my rescue by now, but knew that was a fleeting sentiment. What I needed now was a weapon.

"Such cowardice," he snarled, "you've forgotten your place."

"Bad conversation." I hadn't the faintest clue to what he was babbling on about, so I ignored his words and focused on the immediate danger; stick and stones are what inevitably break your bones. I inclined my head a little and brought up my arms, keeping my left fist vertically about six inches from face and my right fist besides the chin.

I suppose he thought I was going to hit him, but I was wrong; he threw a quick punch into my shoulder. I'm sure I looked surprised as my backside was pushed into the utensils drawer. I've been punched numerous times, sometimes on purpose and sometimes not, but that jab especially hurt. I tried not to wince, but my shoulder felt sore like someone had slugged it with a baseball bat.

"You little, impudent annoyance!" He wasn't giving up on the physical force, swiftly grappling me by the throat and forcing my head against the back of the metal sink.

My head made an awful noise from the collision, and I could feel wetness drip onto my face, and figured it was either water or my own blood. His grip felt like a constrictor squeezing its prey, and I grabbed his arm with both of my hands, struggling to pry him off as my vision began to blur, and I gasped for air. All those workouts at the hospital, years of training, and I couldn't even budge the guy.

"I can't abide attention to such trivial, lower class beings." I couldn't tell if it was just my dissipating conscious playing tricks on me, but there were dark feathers falling all around us. Deep dark feathers from a giant pair of raven-like wings spouted from his back, extending over me like a great, ominous thundercloud. "Perhaps this will jog your memory."

Suddenly, there was light.

A flicker of bright electricity manifested in his unoccupied hand, a jagged streak of hot, angry energy that reminded me of lightning. The weapon crackled and forked until forming a complete shape, a javelin. "Don't move." Some of the smirk came back. "This'll only hurt a lot." He spoke as he brought the flaming, sizzling weapon towards my forehead.

I scrambled to escape his grip, but it felt like trying to move literal steel; his strength was just too much. "Get off!" I was yelling as loudly as my lungs could support in hopes that someone would hear the racket and call for the police.

I howled for a moment and continued my doomed struggle until I finally began to feel the grip around my throat lessen and the pain in my head slowly become obsolete.

_**"What'chu doin', partner?"**_

I stared in disbelief as seeps of electricity began to discharge from my hands and arms, slowly becoming a mixture of reddish, rugged flames. The intruder's strength I had feared now seemed to dissipate, and I looked right at him with an ugly sneer.

"What the…" His eyes widened and I could see my very own reflect in his irises. My eyes were red, crimson like my classmate at school. The bastard was probably used to having his way, but he was in a different league now. An ugly rage boiled within me.

I grabbed his wrist with my right and brought my left up and around his throat, effectively blocking him from using the spear. He might have been taller than me, but the extra, brand-new power I had on him flattened him against the fridge. He tried to kick me, but I had prepared for that by turning my body a little away.

_**"Good, good! Use my strength, it's all yours…!"**_ The dragon's voice drowned out.

"Don't move." He struggled some more and started to yell, but I closed my grip on his windpipe and the only thing that came out was a wheezy yell. His eyes bulged, and I thought about how the thumb fits so well over the larynx, and with one good squeeze…

"Shit…" I could feel the nausea in the back of my throat, rising up to tell me what I was doing was wrong. I stood there swallowing the bile that kept reminding me who I was and of what I could forgive myself. It took a few seconds, but I lessened my grip and allowed him a little more air. His eyes stayed wide, but they didn't bug quite as much as before. "Explain, asshole. Who are you? Talk, or I'm going to pinch your head off."

He looked around wildly, probably thinking of an escape. "As if I'd lower myself to your level, Issei! You're nothing but a damned human!"

"How do you know my name?"

I let him swallow. "Coincidence!"

"I don't believe you." I gave him a taste of his own medicine and rabbit-punched a quick jab between the eyes and popped his nose. I felt the cartilage explode on impact, and removed my wet fist to see that I'd accidentally turned the guy's expression into a discombobulated hubcap. His eyes rolled back and I felt his legs limp.

"Fuck!" I dropped the unconscious body onto the kitchen floor, not realizing my own strength. I felt tired all over, and sat down next to him, my hands dropping to my lap. I could hardly think; my hands were shaking so hard. I wasn't covered in fire anymore, so there was that. After a minute or two, I nodded and took a deep breath.

I rolled to my side and stood up slowly; my shoulder was starting to swell like a balloon. I put my hand out and against the fridge, steadied myself, and took another breath. I pushed off the device and walked over to the phone.

That's when I felt a hot, agonizing pain shoot through me. I screamed as my stomach erupted into a wave on red and entrails, followed by the horrific reveal of a sizzling light spear embedded in me. I staggered, bile and other fluids dripping from my mouth, and fell onto the floor. I could hear the soft patter of footsteps and used my fleeting strength to turn myself around.

"Sakura…" I could feel hot tears run down my face.

The good doctor stepped out of the shadows, another glowing spear in hand.

"Issei…"


End file.
